


What Demons Do

by kinglykook



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Kink, Biting, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Female Protagonist, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Swearing, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, bottom reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinglykook/pseuds/kinglykook
Summary: You somehow wind up attending a Halloween party clad in a cheap angel costume thanks to your friend Anathema. Cue the demon Crowley, who’s ready to corrupt anything in white.↝Pairing: Anthony J. Crowley x reader↝Warnings: Dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), praise kink, multiple orgasms, rough-ish sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up loves), light overstimulation, pet names (emphasis on angel and love [lol]), Crowley’s got a thick cock↝Length: 4k
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens) & Reader, Crowley (Good Omens) x Reader, Crowley (Good Omens) x You, Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader, Crowley x you
Comments: 12
Kudos: 230





	What Demons Do

**Author's Note:**

> Posted under the-ineffable-demon-crowley on tumblr.com

It was a nice day. There had been many nice days; rather 8,462 of them since you came upon the earth. There had also been bad days, but that was just simple statistics. You hadn’t yet decided what sort of day it would be when your friend Anathema greeted you with a mischievous smile, and a flash of brightly coloured orange paper. 

“Happy Halloween.” She smiled, placing the flyer onto the table in front of you, then spinning it around so you could read it.

“Not anymore, it isn’t.” You murmured, placing your coffee aside to glance down at the paper. Your eyes scanned over the text, the words ‘halloween’, ‘party’ and ‘ghoulish’ positively jumping out at you. You raised your eyes to look at your friend without lifting your head, sarcasm lacing your words. “Is Halloween just a singles’ mixer for witches or something?”

Anathema swiped the flyer from the table and placed it from of her, her long hair rustling over her shoulders as she did so. You placed your chin onto your hand with a slight smile. “Anathema, you’re a mediocrely inconspicuous witch at best, why do you bother with these things?”

“I don’t know,” She looked down at the flyer with a small smile. “Newt likes them. He think it embraces my history.” 

Cynicism continued to drip from your words, deepening your voice as you took another sip of your coffee. You tried not to feel mightier in that moment, but it was difficult. “You once went on a 20 minute rant about the inaccuracies of a Party City witch costume.”

“The corseting alone was astonishing!”

“And what are you dragging me along for if Newt’s coming?”

“Because it’s an excuse for you to finally wear that angel costume you got on sale two years ago… And because groups of 3 get in for cheaper.” She murmured the last bit, pushed her glasses up on her nose, and stood up. She picked up the flyer, and with a smile and a flash of it before your eyes, she was leaving before you could protest further. “Tonight, 11pm, angel costume!”

So there you were, a walking white polyester nightmare, and Anathema dressed in her usual witchy garb, emphasized by the flimsy black witch’s hat pinned to her head. Newt was… You weren’t certain what Newt was meant to be, as he looked rather the same as always. You said as much.

“A witchfinder, of course. We wouldn’t do very well if we were conspicuous to others and witches, would we?”

No, you supposed not. 

At this point, a few drinks in, the thrum of the beat rattling your ribcage, you almost felt as though you could sink into the crowd and disappear. Or, like the very costume you were wearing, simply ascend on the wings of elation. You’d like that, you thought, to simply disappear somewhere, just for a little while. Put your soul at the mercy of a higher power. That was when something brought you crashing back down to reality. 

“Pardon me, angel.” A man’s voice, rich as velvet, hit the shell of your ear as he eased himself through the crowd, his hand brushing your hip bone with a touch as light as the lick of a single flame. Your eyes looked to your side, where long and delicate fingers met the forearms and shoulders clad in a black blazer, then slim hips in a pair of black leather trousers. The culmination was a shock of coppery hair that looked like it’d be warm to the touch. He moved with the grace of a serpent, that was your first thought. 

Actually, he didn’t so much walk through the crowd as he slithered through it, like he knew exactly where he was going, and didn’t mind taking up the space to do it. You barely got a look at his face, though you saw the arms of sunglasses framing his temples, with a black smudge near his hairline on one side. He looked like the devil himself. An inexplicable force pulled you towards him, and you were nearly powerless to resist. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get a drink!” You shouted to Anathema over the music. She nodded and turned her attention back to Newt, who, God bless him, was trying his best to keep up with the beat. You pushed through the crowd, following the man until you reached the corner of the bar. The light on the overhead was out on his side, and his face was cloaked in shadow almost as if he’d intended it to be. As though that was his spot. 

You sidled up to the bartender, close enough to the man, and you stole a glance at him once again as he bent his head back and drank the rest of his drink in one fell swoop. You watched the angle of his jawline, the movement of his Adam’s apple, and felt a heat flare up inside of you. Rather suddenly. You turned to the bartender to order, but someone else took up his attention.

Slightly defeated, you huffed and leaned away from the bar, when you heard the man beside you speaking, barely a regular speaking level over the din of the music, but the bartender immediately turned to face him. “She’ll have what I’m having, providing she can handle it.” 

The bartender obliged to your delight, and poured the drink in front of you. You took a sniff. “Fireball?” You laughed.

“Nothing more appropriate for a demon.” He replied, sliding the glass towards the bartender once more. Wordlessly, he stopped what he was doing and refilled the demon’s drink. They must have a deal of some sort, you thought. 

“Is that what you’re supposed to be?” You challenged, lifting a brow. “Pretty low-key for a demon.”

“We’re masters of subtlety, we are. Well, some of us. Others have got all sorts of things all over them, frogs, flies. I saw one with a chameleon once, he wore it like a hat.” He shook his head. “Not for me.”

“Not a fan of reptiles?”

He smiled, a mischievous, knowing grin, black lenses peering at you inside the dark club. As if he knew everything you didn’t. As if he knew what you looked like underneath your clothes. “Quite the opposite.” 

“So then, angel,” The pet name made you flush, but even if he were keen enough to notice, it’d be difficult with those sunglasses. His dedication to the costume was impressive; how did he manage to walk around so easily? “Are you up for a spot of temptation?” 

“Is that why you’re here? To tempt others?” You asked, eyes flashing as you drank the rest of the alcohol, the fireball burning heavily in the back of your throat. Something told you he would burn you up from the inside just like that, a deep heat within your blood. He raised his brows behind his glasses, another smirk on his lips. You pushed your glass back behind the bartender, and he instantly came over to refill it. You looked over at the demon, impressed, but his eyes were on you. 

“I’d wager you’re the tempting one here, angel. I don’t personally know of any holy beings who’d wear a bloody skirt like that.” He nodded towards your backside, and your feet shuffled in the white heels you’d borrowed from Madame Tracy, suddenly very aware of just how skimpy this costume was. A white bustier with gold trim, a tiny skirt fluffed up with several pieces of tulle, and rhinestoned gloves and tights. A cheap pair of feathery wings spread behind your back, and a tinselled gold halo crowned your head. 

“Personally?” You laughed. “You talk like you’re a… professional demon or something.” 

Just then, you thought you saw the mark on his temple shift. You blinked under the flashing club lights, and barely made out the sinuous outline of a black snake. But didn’t it just slith-

“You could say sin is my speciality, angel.” He thought for a moment, then his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but at an inhuman speed. Had you imagined that as well, or was the fireball already affecting you? You’d never had such lucid hallucinations before. “You haven’t answered my question, and it isn’t good manners to keep a demon waiting. We’re an impatient lot.”

You raised a brow, took another sip of the cinnamon-based brew, and licked your own lips as you pretended to think on it. “Are you going to corrupt me?”

The man set his glass aside, took two steps, and rounded the corner separating you two. You drank him in like a glass of wine, the darkness, the sultriness of him. He stood by you, and you could practically feel the heat emanating from him as though he held hellfire itself in the palm of his hand, which he offered to you. Outstretched, his long, delicate fingers beckoning you towards a world of hedonism and temptation, one not easily escaped under the haze of lust and greed. 

“Until you’re begging.”

______________________________________________________________________________________

Sat in the passenger seat of the great black Bentley, you couldn’t help but sigh when you felt the buttery softness of the leather seats, and the musky smell inside the car. The sinfully delicious man driving next to you was hardly helping the haze in your mind. “My place is closer, I can guarantee that much.” He spoke like he knew something you didn’t. 

You made a soft non-committal hum, then blinking soberly for a moment as you realized something. “I don’t even know your name. What is it?”

“Crowley.” Your brow furrowed. 

“Is that a first name or a last name?”

“Crowley comma Anthony.”

“Oh.” 

He glanced over at you, now peering out of your window. “You don’t like it?”

“What?” You laughed, looking back over at him. “What do you mean, you daft demon? It’s your name.”

“I’ve had a few mixed responses.” He responded vaguely. You smirked to yourself, once again allowing yourself to admire the interior of the car. Never mind the exterior, but your attention continued to fall onto Crowley. You watched his elegant fingers as they wrapped around the steering wheel, and you had a most unholy vision of them wrapped around your throat. You hummed quietly again at the thought, and you saw Crowley smirk, as if he knew all along.

“And yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Lovely.”

“Well, you see Crowley, I simply wanted to know which name,” You leaned up towards him, your lips brushing against his ear. He was still as a statue, restraint overcoming him as he weaved in and out of traffic like it was the Formula 1. You barely felt the car move. “I’d be screaming tonight.” You sat back into your seat, somewhat pleased with yourself. “… Providing you can handle it.” The echo of his own words against him was not lost, and you felt elated at teasing him. 

“You are a minx, aren’t you? But something tells me you’re all talk, angel.” You watched as his fingers slithered over the bare expanse of your thigh, just centimetres from the boundary of your short skirt. His touch was warm against your skin, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You clutched the side of the door as his fingers dipped lower, until they were perfectly level with your underwear. Your breathing hitched, eyes fluttering shut as you waited for him to touch you. But it never came. 

Peeking one eye open, you turned to look at him, still driving, with both hands on the wheel, and grinning like a Cheshire cat. “That’s alright, love. I already know you’re soaking wet for me.” 

Fuck if he wasn’t right. 

You don’t entirely remember the details of getting into Crowley’s place, which you chalked up to the alcohol. However, the moment you both crashed through the door, lips smashed against each other in a fiery kiss, all of your attention was on him. His hands were everywhere, your breasts, your ass, your thighs, your hair. You were so tempted to touch him, but you settled for wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers playfully tugging on his hair.

His lips disappeared from yours for but a moment as he leaned down to collect you in his arms. You squealed in delight as he picked you up with ease, walked over to a decadent looking throne, and sat down with you on his lap. You took a moment to glance at his home, noting the gloominess of the decor, the greyness of the furniture, and yet the opulence of the golden throne framing him in front of you. The flat extended further beyond the main room to a hallway full of plants, and you couldn’t help but find the thought of him spraying each leaf with care endearing. 

You regarded him again, groaning softly as he maneuvered you onto his stiffening member, earning him a gasp as he unexpectedly bucked up into you. The friction between his leathery pants and the underside of your bare thighs was electrifying. He smiled up at you in an almost saccharine way, which made his intentions all the more sinister. Your fingers skimmed his jaw line in admiration, then moved up into his hairline, and rested on the metal arm of his sunglasses. 

“Is it okay for you to take them off?” 

Crowley lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, at which point the lights in the flat dimmed to a much softer light, one that would almost require you to squint.

“Anything my angel desires.” He purred, giving a subtle nod as permission. You slipped them off, and his eyes looked a bit greenish in the dark. Coloured contacts, you thought, very dedicated to the demon look.

He reached up and slowly slipped the elastic bands of the angel wings from off your shoulders, then delicately removed the halo headband from the top of your head. He was an enigma; all fire and heat and smoke and brimstone, and yet these little light touches were as delicate as a breeze. But you were no fool - you felt the power in him, thrumming through him, and underneath you. 

“Now for something I want.”

His eyes watched yours as his hands made a similar path as when you were in the car, but this time his fingertips brushed against the soaked material of your panties. You preened against him, practically begging for his touch. He tsk’d quietly, his touch a little more insistent as he rubbed against the wet patch of your underwear. “We’ve been naughty, haven’t we? Is this enough to get you wet, angel? My voice, my fingers?” As he spoke, his pace quickened, his skilled fingers beginning to move your panties aside. You felt the coldness of the air hit your pussy as his fingers delved into your slick. You throbbed at the touch. 

“Yes, Crowley.” You swore solemnly, a high-pitched moan slipping from your lips as you grabbed the armrest of his throne. Your other hand was gripping his wrist, feeling the strength of it as one of his fingers slipped inside of you. His eyes flashed in the darkness wickedly.

“Brilliant. Get that skirt off.” Your hands quickly went behind you, with luck, the skirt unzipped entirely off - clearly orchestrated for situations such as this. You tossed it aside, then loosened the cheap corset strings of the bustier, yanked it off, and threw it alongside the skirt. You moved as quickly as possible to just be able to focus on his hand, as a second finger slipped inside of you easily. His thumb came up and began to rub circles against your clit, causing you to buck against his trousers.

“This hardly seems fair,” You hissed in pleasure. “I’m naked, and you’re still clothed.”

He chuckled lowly in his throat. “You like it.” A third finger then, and your words died in your throat. They stroked against your g-spot effortlessly, and your lips pressed to his in a heady kiss. 

“Oh-oh! I’m close, Crowley.” Your eyes drifted shut as you concentrated only on the feeling of long fingers fucking into your pussy, the feeling of his leathery pants underneath you, and his growing erection against the inside of your thigh. Your hips rutted against his hand desperately, but as soon as the end was in sight, his hand retreated. You whined in protest, eyes opening in time to see him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, your jawline, then your throat. You felt his tongue slithering against your skin, and even felt one of his canines sink into your skin for a moment. You felt your soul begin to tarnish with every moment you stayed in his arms. 

“Not nearly finished with you yet.” He stood up, and you had half a second to realize the earth was moving underneath you before wrapping your arms around his neck, and coiling your legs around him like a snake on a branch. His hands grabbed your ass, giving it a generous squeeze as he walked you to a door off to the side, and shoved it open with his foot. 

His bedroom, you surmised, which was decorated much the same as the rest of it. Gloomy, dark, and grey, with a huge bed decked out in black sheets right off to the side. “Is this where you’ll have your wicked way with me?” Crowley laughed in your ear, depositing you onto the bed. His lithe form covered yours as he slowly pushed you down and back farther onto the bed. He pushed his knee between yours, opening you up to him. In a moment, his shirt was gone, revealing lean but strong muscles and a tiny waist clad only in his trousers. 

“Oh, no, love, you’re going to have to beg for it.” He hissed in your ear, hips grinding against you. You could feel his hardness against your pussy, and you gasped quietly. “Come now, my little angel. Tell me what it is you want most.” 

A shiver rocketed through you and inflamed your blood. You pushed your hips back against him, a soft sob building up in your throat. “Please, fuck me. Please.” Desperation flooded through you as yet another second passed when he wasn’t inside of you. You felt yourself dripping onto your thighs, and you could only beg the devil himself for Crowley to take mercy on you. 

“Louder, angel.”

“Fuck me, Crowley!” Your voice gained some strength, fingernails digging into the demon’s skin as you tried to pull him closer to you. You felt him begin to take off his pants, and the promise of release loomed closer as your eyes took him in, long and thick and hard. You rutted against what little of his skin you could feel. Your eyes drifted shut. “Please.” 

“Look at you, positively desperate for my cock. Corrupted you nicely, haven’t I?” He sank in so fluidly, you sobbed in relief. Finally seated within your soaking cunt, Crowley let out a primal groan, sucked air in through his teeth, and grabbed your hips in a brutal vice. He began to roll his hips against you, getting you used to the feeling of him deep inside of you. His fingers dug into your skin, letting out small hisses as he pounded into you, slowly at first, then built up to a brutal pace. The feeling of him, hard and thick and heavy, stroking the inside of you, was almost enough to make you cum on the spot. He was just so big, and he knew it. 

“What a good little angel you are for me,” He grunted above you, your hands gripping his forearms, corded with lean muscle. “So-so good… and so bloody wet. Is that all for me then?” His teasing tone returned, and you couldn’t help but smirk up at him, clenching your pussy around him. His hips stuttered for just a moment, hand coming to rest against the headboard as he moaned at the feeling. He immediately punctuated his displeasure with your antics with a particularly sharp thrust, making you gasp as pain mingled with pleasure deliciously.

“Remember who you’re dealing with, love.” He growled, his voice taking on a deep and predatory rumble. His hips quickened against you, hands moving to hold your hips down as he pistoned in and out of you. “I am the temptation, and you are mine to ruin.”

“Fuck, yes, Crowley!” 

Your orgasm tipped you over the edge of a chasm, and pleasure spread like waves to your very fingertips. You shook against him, his lithe, sinewy body, and his hands quickly moved to scoop you up and switch positions. He now lay on the bed like the god of the underworld himself, red hair mussed, chest heaving, arms crossed underneath his head, a smile on his face. His eyes glinted impishly. Your pussy throbbed against him, still hard inside of you. 

“I can’t, Crowley…” You sighed, a sheen of sweat lighting up your features as the moonlight trickled in. You felt like a creature of the underworld, under his command. “Please.”

“One more, sweetheart. An angel must be properly fucked in order for her to become one of the fallen.”

Your pussy was overwhelmingly sensitive as you rocked forward against his hips, earning you a groan from his lips. So sensual and raw the sound was, that it spurred you, eager to please. You fought through the ache as you fucked yourself against his cock, bouncing against him. His hands uncurled from underneath his head and slyly slipped over your body, from your breasts back down to your hips, and in between your legs where you needed them most.

“I-I’m so close.” You panted, the sight of Crowley laying there like a god while you worked to pleasure him enough to drag you over the edge alone. The only indication you had that he was close as well was him beginning to fuck himself up into you, one hand braced against your thigh, and the other beginning to tweak your clit. You nearly screamed at the feeling, release building inside of you. 

“There’s my good girl,” He sang his praises like a choir to your ears. “Nearly there, aren’t we? Such a desperate little thing.” Your hips moved desperately against his, his cock angled perfectly to make you see stars with every heaving thrust. “D’you want to come?”

You nodded, and the idea of gaining his permission made you clench around him. You sobbed at the feeling, very nearly losing control before he could allow you to fall apart around him. “God, yes, please!.”

“He isn’t here. Your release is in my hands.” His fingers rubbed against your clit more vigorously. “Cum for me, angel. Show me who can make you cum like this.” Exhausted but frantic, you gyrated your hips against his cock and his talented fingers until you felt your spirit leave you. Your release rocketed through every synapse in your body, a feeling that only an otherworldly man could cause. You pushed yourself against him one, two, three more times, then felt yourself go limp. You felt him buck up into you to ride out his own orgasm, the feeling of his cum filling you up, hot and deep. His hands held your hips in place for a moment longer, ensuring you milked him for every last drop.

Crowley quickly switched the positions once more, and you nearly fainted at the thought of a third round.

“Crowley, I-”

“Relax, angel.” He laughed. He shifted to lie down next to you, softening cock slipping out of your sorest parts, and you suddenly felt a blanket slip up against your skin, though you hadn’t seen him bend down to acquire it. You could feel his hot seed trickling out of you, mixing with your own slick on your thighs, but you couldn’t find the energy to even sit up let alone clean yourself off. 

As exhaustion began to overtake you, you felt the last pieces of your soul blacken like the curling edges of parchment over a flame. Pleasure still rippled through your fingertips, and you knew that was him writing his name, leaving his mark on you for eternity. Damned, you were, and damned if you didn’t love it. 

“Well.” You panted heavily, eyes beginning to close. “Fucking hell.”

“That’s about right, angel.”


End file.
